


The Case of the Missing Keys

by Sir_your_face



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alcohol, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Other, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-09
Updated: 2013-09-09
Packaged: 2017-12-26 03:17:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/960951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sir_your_face/pseuds/Sir_your_face
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a run in at the morgue, Sherlock, John, Lestrade, and Molly all get a pint. Or three. And Molly loses her keys. Stuff ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Case of the Missing Keys

     John found himself staring at the bottom of another empty pint glass. How many was this, he asked himself, but before he could say anything, Greg Lestrade was up and ordering another round. _Oh well_ , John thought _, it was a hell of a week._

      A loud “Ouch!” and then peals of giggles came from across the table, and John looked up to see Molly holding her forehead and Sherlock rubbing his elbow. John was positive Molly had had too many drinks for her tiny frame, and Sherlock would normally be scowling right about now, but his face was strangely _not bothered_ looking. _How many drinks had he had_ , John wondered. Sherlock normally didn’t imbibe. _Was this some sort of experiment? God, I hope not._

 

      Greg came back to the table with four more pints, and sloshed them down in the middle. “Now I am not condonin ASBO-receivin behaviour,” Greg got out, “but no one is drivin and fuck if that wasn’t a hell of a chase, so here they are an’ it’s up to you.” He dropped down next to John, and promptly started downing the next pint.

 

      “It’s not every day I get to be part of the fun stuff,” Molly giggled. “I’m surprised at how well I’m handling all of this.” She smiled up at Sherlock, who- _wait, what the fuck?_ \- was actually smiling back at her. Not fake smiling, but actual-

 

      “Superb instep stomping, Miss Hooper.” Sherlock patted her head like she was a puppy.

 

      “I thought you were going to tell me I could have waited until he finished telling you where he hid the jump drive…”

 

      “Pfft,” Sherlock cut her off, “I knew where it was, I just wanted him to admit he was the one who killed Chris Lee to get it.  Makes everything easier for Lestrade.”

 

      “It shure does!” Greg chimed in over his glass.

 

 _Okay, what kind of alternate universe am I in_ , John wondered, looking at Molly and Sherlock having a pleasant conversation about embalming agents and poisons. _Everyone is being so not normal. Nice. Happy._ Alcohol. Stress. It was like the Army, camaraderie after a shitstorm.

 

      The phone on the table next to Lestrade began to vibrate. “Fuckin hell,” he swore under his breath. “Every time I start to enjoy myself….” He picked up the phone and got up to go outside. John took this opportunity to assess. He looked across the table to Sherlock, who was still deep in conversation with Molly about the benefits of a certain type of preservative made in China, but banned from the UK. John tried to catch his eye, but their normal spidey senses weren’t working. Must be the alcohol. John considered kicking him under the table, but decided to use his words instead.

 

      “Sherlock, the fatigue is starting to kick in. And I’ve got to be at the surgery tomorrow morning. I think I’m ready to go home.” For a moment, Molly looked a bit disappointed, but she recovered quickly.

 

      “Oh, it is getting late, isn’t it? I should probably head out too. Let me make sure I’ve got all my…” Her voice trailed off as she reached down for her bag, and started shuffling around in it for her keys.

 

      Sherlock actually had the nerve to look offended at John for ending his evening. _Must be some chemical,_ John thought a bit unkindly _, to have enamoured him so._

     

     “Shit!” Molly exclaimed, and then blushed furiously. “Oops, uhm, sorry. But I seem to have lost my keys. I never lose my keys!” She made a noise of frustration, and kept digging.

 

      Just then, John got a text from Greg. Won’t be back, sorry mate. Finish my pint for me!

 

     “Well, looks like Lestrade’s off. We’re on our own. Did you leave them at Bart’s, Molly?” John asked to Molly’s burrowed head.

 

     “I don’t think so……”

 

     Sherlock made a noise of frustration. “It’s fine, you can just come back to Baker Street with us tonight.”

 

     Molly's cheeks flushed pink, and she made a noise that wasn’t quite human.

 

     John also found himself making a strange noise. _What the hell is going on…?_

     Sherlock rolled his eyes at the both of them. “We do have a couch you know. And a landlady. I think your virtue will be safe.”

 

     Molly turned crimson, and made another funny dolphin noise. “No! That’s not what I was-“

 

     Sherlock cut her off. “Let’s go,” he said in his brook no argument voice. “You can get your keys in the morning.” Molly looked up at him, eyes wide. After a moment, she rose and trailed him out the door.

 

     John watched the two of them walk out. He shook his head, and followed.


End file.
